


Operation Stark Sing

by context_please



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Because of Reasons, Crack, Domestic Avengers, Gen, It's the musical episode kiddies, Musical References, Sorry Not Sorry, Team Fluff, The Police - Freeform, crack everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/context_please/pseuds/context_please
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Natasha and Bruce are The Police fangirls, Steve gets converted, Clint's shit is not really Holy, Thor is amused by human antics, and Tony Stark is way better than the Avengers thought he was.</p>
<p>Basically, this is the Avengers Police-themed musical that you never knew you wanted. But you do. I know you do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation Stark Sing

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much pure crack. As promised to thehunterandtheangel. 
> 
> You're going to want to watch this life-altering video first: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1crxmBTxRlM
> 
> You can find a track list at the end but it might spoil some content. It's up to you!

‘Holy SHIT!’

Steve startled, the quiet in the tower suddenly broken by Clint’s harsh yell. The newspaper in his hands rustled unhappily, the entertainment section sliding out and falling to the floor with a _slap_.

Across from him, Natasha looked up from her book – Steve thought it might have been _War and Peace_ for the umpteenth time, but he wasn’t willing to bet his life on it – and scowled, looking over the back of the armchair she was sprawled in. ‘You’re shit is NOT Holy, Clint!’ she yelled back at him.

Steve stifled a laugh against the back of his hand, some highly undignified sounds managing to escape as Clint scrambled less-than-gracefully down the hallway. He was winded, eyes wide with something that looked vaguely like shock but was super ceded by excitement.

Fueled by an odd adrenaline surge, as it seemed he was, Clint managed to shove himself in between Steve and Bruce on the couch, knocking Steve’s newspaper out of his hands and nearly spilling Bruce’s tea all over the couch.

‘Have you occupied yourself with devouring my pop tarts again, Barton?’ Thor asked, a friendly note in his voice, but there was a hard glint in his eyes demanding a serious answer. He wasn’t really happy either, Clint having interrupted his nap on the other couch, where Steve had spotted him stretching out an hour and a half ago and ceasing to move.

Clint wiggled infuriatingly, his elbows digging into Steve’s side. ‘I found something. It’s mind-blowing, it’s shocking, it’s –‘

Steve elbowed Clint back, hard enough that it would certainly bruise later. ‘What _is it_ , Clint?’

The archer leveled him with a heartbroken look. ‘I just – I can’t explain it. JARVIS, play the last video I watched.’

The TV turned on, and a video filled the screen. It opened with a shot of a large band stretched out across the frame, backup singers occupying the space at the back of the stage, and a large amount of unused instruments on stands, ready for the next song. A tall bald man on the right holding a guitar walked across the stage to greet a guest, and when Steve focused his attention on the addition, his mouth fell open.

Tony Stark strutted proudly across the stage, clad in a black suit, the jacket embroidered with some sort of beads. He reached out to shake the musician’s hand, then kissed it almost jokingly, before turning to the band and cueing the song.

‘Is that _Sting_?’ Bruce demanded, sounding oddly jealous.

The Avengers (sans Tony, of course) watched, transfixed, as video-Tony approached the microphone, moving in time with the music. It was a song Steve vaguely recognized from the ‘musical education’ that had been bestowed upon him.

‘Is he going to sing?’ Natasha’s voice was almost outraged.

And then he did.

‘ _How can you say that you’re not responsible? What does it have to do with me?_ ’

 

 

 

 

Steve, and his fellow Avengers, sat in shock for what felt like an hour after watching the video.

‘Holy shit,’ Bruce whispered from on the other side of the couch.

‘Yup,’ Clint said, without a hint of the self-satisfaction.

‘Again,’ Natasha ordered, and they didn’t move a muscle.

The video played through again, and still the Avengers were practically held in thrall.

‘The Man of Iron has a remarkable voice,’ Thor said, looking like that was all he could form into legible words for human ears.

And he did. Tony’s voice was wonderful, tone rich and smooth, and Steve could hear the tangible love Tony had for the song through his voice. He exchanged smirks and smiles with Sting as they played, looking confident and carefree on stage. His vocals were precise, perfect, and it was surprisingly wonderful for a live performance, which Steve himself usually didn’t care for. But this – this sounded like a record. And yet, they’d never received any inkling that Tony could sing, or even carry a tune. He had to hear more.

‘I have an idea,’ Steve declared, once he’d gotten his brain back. ‘Operation Stark Sing is a go. Everybody, sing as much as you can. Hum, turn on the radio, anything.’

Bruce quirked an eyebrow. ‘Permission to play The Police in the tower?’

‘Granted. Any suggestions?’

 

 

 

 

 

It turned out that Natasha and Bruce were massive Police fans.

Steve found them in Bruce’s lab, singing at the tops of their voices, grins on their faces. Bruce’s dance moves were horrible, and Natasha just laughed harder at him, somehow still managing to sing remotely in-tune.

As Steve entered the lab, he heard that the song playing was _Every Breath You Take_. After the video the day before, Steve had checked out more of The Police’s music, and found that he quite liked the rock-jazz feel of their songs. They had a sort of soothing sound, an interesting dynamic.

So, of course, he joined in the singing.

The three of them belted out the chorus, somehow managing not to sound horrible, and pointing creepily at each other the whole time.

‘ _Every breath you take… every move you make… every vow you break…_ ’

Just as one Tony Stark wandered past the see-through lab walls, coffee mug ready to be properly refilled. He must have run out of coffee in the lab. He had on one of those black tank tops, shoulders muscular and proud, held with confidence as he walked along with that self-assured gait of his. The blue glow of the arc reactor was brighter than ever through the thin fabric of the shirt.

It was practically spot-on lunchtime, and Tony never missed a meal. Even when he was entrenched in a project, he came up for food anyway. Tony certainly loved his food. That, coupled with the fact that he’d seen Tony pull food out of thin air in his lab, convinced Steve that he’d never have to worry about the food side of things, merely everything else.

Steve pointed accusingly (ridiculously, more like) at Tony, still singing obnoxiously loud. He grinned and gestured his friend inside.

Tony grinned back, clearly finding the whole scenario hilarious, gave Steve a thumbs up, and motioned to his mug. He watched them a moment longer, mirth in his eyes, then wandered up the hallway, shoulders shaking with laughter.

He turned back to Bruce and Natasha, pulling out some purposefully ridiculous dance moves, forcing the scientist and the spy to break out into hysterical laughter, and kept singing. So Tony didn’t join in this time – Steve was having fun with his friends, and he wasn’t going to stop for a while.

 

 

 

Tony was sitting next to Steve, clutching a hot coffee, when the next opportunity arose.

Breakfast was a thing every other day with the Avengers – it would have been a special occasion every day, if the tower hadn’t been full of night owls and scientists, not to mention the spies who still took missions every now and then. Quite often, most of them didn’t even make it to breakfast.

So he guessed it was more of a dinner thing, really. No one ever missed dinner – especially when Bruce made dinner, and, increasingly often, when it was made by Steve. (He’d been consulting cookbooks and actually getting good – he was kind of proud of himself.)

At that moment, though, everyone was in the kitchen, watching Bruce stick the waffle in the custom-built iron, and carefully apply a painstakingly hard-won formula of syrup-to-cream perfection. Steve had helped work that one out (sometimes being a bottomless pit had its advantages, like endless supplies of waffles).

As Steve picked up the newspaper – completely disregarding the headlines and moving to the real news – he started to hum. He had been doing meticulous research into The Police over the last couple of days, memorized their tunes, not so secretly fallen in love with them, and spent hours next to Bruce in the lab, programming the speakers to play their favorites.

Humming the tune to _Walking on the Moon_ , Steve continued to pretend to read the article, but he was actually hyper-aware of his surroundings. He saw when Bruce’s hips began to sway in time to the tune, as if he could hear the actual song juxtaposed over the top.

He hummed louder, still pretending to be doing so distractedly, when Clint jumped in, tapping the basic drumbeat into the table with the end of his spoon

Natasha joined in humming with Steve, and Thor watched them all with a barely-concealed grin on his face, all too amused at what they were doing. It was worth noting, though, that Steve knew Thor’s attention was half-focused on Tony, and he wouldn’t miss a second of that spectacular voice if it appeared.

They waited, ready for Tony to join in spontaneously – even Bruce humming the guitar along with Steve – and steal the show, so they could provide background music.

Finishing his coffee with one last huge gulp, Tony stood up and said, ‘Nice chat,’ absently, then left the room.

Natasha glared at Clint. ‘I _told you_ Stark’s never coherent in the morning.’

‘I concur,’ Thor agreed, scowling at Clint. ‘Even the Man of Iron knows that.’

‘No more ideas from Clint,’ Steve ordered.

 

 

 

They tried Bruce’s suggestion next.

To let Tony’s potential suspicion (although Steve doubted he had even been _in the room_ with them at breakfast) abate, the Avengers unanimously agreed that they had to wait a couple of days to initiate the latest phase of Operation Stark Sing.

Having prepared lunch – which had been minestrone soup, given the coming wintry weather – Steve sat down on the couch as he watched Bruce and Tony head down to the lab, Bruce giving him a thumbs up behind Tony’s back.

As soon as they disappeared into the elevator, babbling science-y things that Steve had no hope of understanding, the rest of the Avengers seemingly emerged from the woodwork, filling up the couches in the living room and fixing their attention on the screen as it flickered to life.

A live feed from Bruce’s lab greeted them, and they were just in time to see the two of them stroll in, Tony gesticulating wildly with his hands. Bruce was nodding thoughtfully, a pensive look on his face, while the engineer waxed lyrical about something he called ‘hardware mode’. Steve had the feeling it was something he’d never want to see.

‘I’d much rather do the hardware myself, where I know all the systems inside and out. What kind of engineer would I be if I didn’t know everything about my infrastructure, software and hardware alike? It’s just shameful. I couldn’t even call myself a scientist.’

‘I guess it has its advantages,’ Bruce conceded.

Tony appeared outraged. ‘You _guess_? Hardware is the best thing there is. Remember, no software without the hardware to execute it. That’s just the way it is. Plus, the heavy lifting is actually kind of fun.’

They made their way to the computer bay, and Tony stopped Bruce by putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘Tell you what; next time the ‘shop’s in hardware mode, I’ll show you what it’s all about.’

Bruce gave him a smile that was half _I’m humoring you_ and half _that actually sounds fun_. ‘Right now, we have the sample from the latest gooey menace to analyse,’ he reminded his friend.

‘What are we looking at?’

Steve watched as Bruce explained everything – in science-speak that was _completely and totally beyond him_ – and the two of them settled down to work. Bruce sat at the computer bay while Tony moved to the glass casing that housed the sample, collecting a series of beakers beside it and eyeing the substances carefully.

Bruce cued the music, the first notes of the bass line of _Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic_ began to fill the lab, starting softly but building gradually in volume with every passing second. Steve was almost ashamed that he instantly recognized the song by its bass line and keyboard accompaniment, but it didn’t really matter.

The lab filled with music as Sting’s voice began the chorus; ‘ _every little thing she does is magic…_ ’

Bruce began singing along with the chorus, not exactly quiet, but not loud or obnoxious either. He actually had a nice voice, and easily kept up with Sting as the song went on. But he wasn’t the one they were watching.

Tony was still standing at the bench, surveying the contents of the beakers and writing his observations on a pad of paper – and that was odd, Tony using paper – and holding another beaker in his left hand. His hips moved in time to the music, his left shoulder moving a little too, and he was nodding slightly. The motions were fluid and perfectly timed, matching flawlessly, like he knew the song intrinsically. Or perhaps he just loved it.

Steve watched as Tony moved seemingly naturally to the music, smooth and practiced, comfortable. But he didn’t sing.

His hopes plummeted as the end of the song came around and still there was no reaction. The next track played, and he recognized Led Zeppelin’s _Stairway To Heaven_ , another song he loved – but then again, he’d heard that there was not a single person on the face of the earth that didn’t like that song, so he didn’t really think it was unique (even Thor loved it) – and still there was no singing.

The Avengers sat on the couches for two hours, listening to music, and Bruce laughing at Tony’s science jokes – which, by the way he laughed, were probably hilarious, but none of the normal humans (and god… well, none of them were normal, actually) understood – but ultimately the time bore no fruit.

Natasha had already cracked out _War and Peace_ , and Steve could finally see that it was the Russian version, and settled into the armchair comfortably, still listening to the lab feed, which had moved on to Kansas’ _Carry On My Wayward Son_.

Steve decided he approved of Bruce’s taste in music.

Clint was perched on the top of the couch, playing a handheld videogame and staying quiet about it (for once), and Thor was simply laying on his side on the long couch, limbs heavy and loose, eyes closed as he enjoyed the sampling of Midgardian music. He’d said it was very different to what he knew, and that it was a good thing, that this music had undergone such rapid and complex changes in reaction to its times.

Steve was disappointed that the plan hadn’t worked. Bruce’s plan had been quite clever, actually, and what else could he expect from a genius? He’d said it was better to make sure Tony was in a comfortable environment so that he felt welcome to be himself, and with all of Tony’s hangups and secret insecurities, he understood that.

The venture bore no fruit, and they had spent a couple of hours waiting for it to happen, but Steve found that he didn’t really mind. There was something simplistic about music, about how it united them together in that moment. The Avengers enjoyed silent company tempered by the soft music from the TV, a rare event that Steve certainly wanted to do more of.

The team seemed loose and relaxed, and Steve was sure it was worth the time they’d sort of wasted, for the chance to stop and just _be_.

 

 

 

 

After ignoring another frankly _stupid_ suggestion from Clint, the team commenced the next phase of the operation with Natasha’s plan.

Steve wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with the plan, but it had been a million times better than Clint’s, so they had decided to use it after all.

Natasha’s plan, of course, involved spying.

She and Steve were sitting in the kitchen, ostensibly chatting, when Tony came up for snacks, right on schedule. He also, predictably, headed straight for the coffee machine. Only those who didn’t truly know Tony thought he was actually unpredictable. Even if Steve couldn’t always see it, he knew that there was a logic behind Tony’s supposed ‘unpredictability’.

Tony grimaced as he saw there was no coffee ready in the machine, and the beans appeared to have run out. (Natasha smirked a little at Tony’s disappointment.) He looked vaguely around the kitchen, a little dazed without his coffee fix, but focused on Natasha’s mug, which actually did contain the last of the coffee.

‘Gimme,’ he said, making grabby hands. It wasn’t a mean order – in fact, it was actually kind of hilarious to watch – if it was even an order at all.

‘Only if you shower first,’ Natasha scoffed at him, nose wrinkling, ‘you stink.’

Tony looked down at himself, probably noticing for the first time the layer of grime and grease that covered his person and had turned his singlet mostly beige. He made a face, which was most likely expressing his oblivious tendencies.

Without a word, Tony left the kitchen, heading toward his room. Steve and Natasha waited until they heard his door close, then followed him to his room. The two of them hesitated when they reached the door, and Steve signaled to her that they could enter, hearing Tony’s bathroom door close.

Steve made his way across the room, pressing his back against the wall to the right of the door, Natasha taking the left. He listened as the water started, the door creaked open, and the rhythm of the drumming stream changed as a body interrupted it. He nodded to Natasha, who cracked open the door silently, affording him a view of a ridiculously steamy bathroom, the vague shape of Tony barely visible through the shower glass coated in steam.

He have the go-ahead signal to Natasha, who whispered quietly, ‘JARVIS, play _Synchronicity II_ in the bathroom.’

The song began with the odd guitar-electronic symphony, progressing to include Sting’s voice and the guitars to the mix. ‘ _Another suburban family morning, grandmother screaming at the wall…_ ’

Steve saw Tony freeze, hands still in his hair, and listen as the song continued to play. ‘ _We have to shout above the din of our Rise Crispies, we can’t hear anything at all…_ ’

He held still, breath baited, and watched avidly as Tony seemed to properly process the music, then relax, going back to scrubbing his hair. ‘JARVIS,’ he said absently, clearly concentrating more on the music, ‘whose request was this?’

‘ _Agent Romanoff, sir._ ’

‘Huh,’ Tony sounded a little surprised. ‘She’s got good taste.’

‘ _Indeed, sir_.’

He relaxed further, and Steve could see his form moving in time to the music, barely able to see through the steam. And then he started humming.

Even his humming was smooth, rhythmic, effortlessly confident, and he hummed perfectly in time to Sting as he shampooed his hair, scrubbing thoroughly.

Natasha gave him a wide-eyed look, and they waited until Tony turned off the water, and then they fled. They sat at the kitchen table with dazed expressions, basking in their half-victory.

The two of them exchanged smiles. At least they had gotten Tony to hum – next step: singing. Steve felt a little bit closer to his goals.

He guessed Natasha did too, by the way she sipped the coffee, lips curled up like the cat that got the canary, and left the rest for Tony.

 

 

 

 

Officially running out of options, and getting much closer to their goals, they decided to go with Thor’s blatantly obvious approach.

The plan: karaoke.

It had all started with a movie Tony had convinced the Avengers to watch while Steve had been away three weeks ago – and thus, unable to ban Tony from corrupting the less normal members of the Avengers. When he had finally arrived home after a stringent mission, Steve had been bombarded with Clint’s actually not-so-terrible singing and Thor’s requests for a karaoke party.

Thor was just glad that he’d finally received permission to do karaoke in the Tower.

Natasha, who had claimed control over their music choice, filled the playlist with all The Police songs they loved – Steve really didn’t mind that (in fact, he was going to have fun. He was secretly – well, not so secretly – in love with The Police.)

So they set up the karaoke machine – which Clint had just produced out of nowhere, and _no one_ was asking him where he’d kept it – turned on the TV for lyrics accompaniment, and spread out a truly astonishing amount of potato chips in ten different flavors, bowls strewn in odd places around the room.

Four caskets of beer and six soft drink bottles were on the coffee table, which had helpfully been set aside so no one fell on it and broke glass everywhere. A bottle of vodka had appeared on the table, too, but no one questioned it or went near the vodka – Natasha’s favorite strength could probably turn _Steve_ blind.

It was an hour in – and the pizza had just arrived – when Tony came up, right in the middle of _Don’t Stand So Close To Me_.

‘ _Her friends are so jealous_ ,’ Thor belted out, his voice impressive in both volume and depth, and Steve sort of admired that he could actually sing proper notes at that volume. ‘ _You know how bad girls get_!’

Clint jumped in next; ‘ _sometimes it’s not so easy, to be the teacher’s pet_.’

Steve danced along as Bruce took the next lines. ‘ _Temptation, frustration, so bad it makes him cry._ ’

Natasha was doing this slinky dance with what he expected were actually top secret spy moves, when she began singing. ‘ _Wet bus stop, she’s waiting, his car is warm and dry._ ’

They all took deep breaths and belted out the chorus at top volume.

‘ _Don’t stand, don’t stand so, don’t stand to close to me!_ ’

Tony wandered in, watching them all dance in frankly ridiculous ways, and Steve could feel the manic grin on his face that matched the rest of his team. They were having a great time.

Tony shook his head at their antics, wandered over to the pizza, took a slice, and parked himself in the seat. He watched as they took the next round in the same order, then as the chorus started.

With the hand that wasn’t holding his pizza, Steve saw Tony pull out his phone and point it at the TV. In seconds, the TV showed a video feed of them doing not-so-badly at karaoke, the lyrics transposed over the top. But they had become,

 

_Please stop_

_Please stop that_

_Please stop that bad singing!_

 

Bruce burst out laughing immediately, but the rest of the Avengers turned on Tony, getting up in his face and singing the proper lyrics, grinning like loons.

Tony burst out laughing, watching their completely over-the-top acting, singing that was purposefully turning bad, and the way Steve was desperately trying to look like a rapper with his waving hands, but managing to do it badly.

As the night continued, Steve and the Avengers had laughed so hard that inhaling was painful, even for Steve and Thor. Bruce was lying dazed on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face, Natasha sprawled out with a leg over his chest as she tried to stop giggling.

Thor was muttering to himself about another karaoke party, and this time Steve was definitely going to endorse that party 110 percent, for sure. He didn’t think he’d had so much fun in a long time.

He could hear Clint rolling around on the floor behind the couch, gasping in between stomach cramps, and Steve gave a breathless laugh as his ribs creaked at him. He dumped himself onto the couch next to Tony, whacking into his shoulder, sprawling out.

The karaoke machine was still playing in the background; the tune to what Steve was pretty sure was _The Bed’s Too Big Without You_. Tony Stark had yet to sing, but Steve wasn’t at all disappointed: in fact, this was a challenge that he was relishing, and the Avengers were finally having fun outside of smashing things. Tony let out a long breath; shoulder rising against Steve’s own, but unable to keep the smile off his face.

‘Fuck,’ he said eloquently. ‘I am almost certain I’ve never laughed that hard in my life.’

‘God, my chest hurts,’ Clint whined from behind the couch.

‘We are doing this again,’ Tony declared instantly, grin firmly fixed in place.

‘Seconded,’ Natasha called, Bruce’s ‘Hell yeah,’ following on its heels.

‘I third,’ Clint agreed.

‘Verily,’ Thor said, wiggling his eyebrows madly.

And what could they do but laugh?

 

 

 

 

After the karaoke party, the Avengers seemed to relax completely around each other.

 

Music played through the Tower at all times, mostly The Police and Sting, but no one could deny the magical powers of Led Zeppelin, either. Occasionally some old songs from Steve’s era would come across the speakers, mixed with the instrumental pieces Thor said reminded him of Asgard, and the trashy pop music that Clint had some sort of weird thing for.

Steve sort of loved it.

An Avenger would often break into song, managing to suck the others in around them and creating a mini-chorus that included all – except Tony.

He would hum, and dance, and be as ridiculous as usual, but he would never sing.

Thing was, Steve found that he didn’t even care anymore. His teammates seemed to have forgotten Operation Stark Sing, and he was perfectly happy with what they all had. The six of them were so much closer than before, and Steve was just happy that they had found something other than Coulson’s death – which was still a raw point, even after all that time – to bring them together and begin the bonding process.

It was also kind of comforting to never have to sit in silence.

So, when the Avengers gathered for lunch, with the ending minute of _Bohemian Rhapsody_ in their ears, Steve implemented the final phase of Operation Stark Sing.

‘Tony,’ he said, and the man’s head turned to him, cheeks bulging with sandwich. ‘We saw that video of you on the internet,’ he finally admitted. ‘It was weeks ago now, but I just thought you should know… we sort of started it all so you would sing.’

Tony swallowed, flashing them all a knowing grin. ‘Yeah, I figured it out in the shower a couple of weeks ago, when The Police suddenly started playing constantly. I never told you that I loved The Police and all of a sudden it was popping up all over the tower? It wasn’t a difficult leap. I sort of noticed when my life became a Police-themed musical. Of course, this is before I knew you, Natasha, and Bruce were giant fangirls.’

Clint’s eyes almost popped out of his head. ‘Why didn’t you sing then?’ he exclaimed, outraged.

Tony shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich. ‘I was waiting for you to ask.’

‘Would you grace us with your voice, Anthony?’ Thor asked, voice deep and clear. Steve could understand – they didn’t want to be misheard after they finally received this opportunity.

Swallowing again, Tony cleared his throat and seamlessly began with the song that had started. ‘ _Just a castaway, an island lost at sea. Another lonely day, with no one here but me…_ ’

His voice was perfect; smooth and rich, a little husky but barely recognizable as his speaking voice. The Avengers were again transfixed, as they had been weeks ago, by the purity of Tony’s voice, the beauty and eloquence of his singing. As in the video, he leaked confidence, but here he also had a comfortable quality that seeped into his voice. Steve could hear the trust he was placing in them.

‘ _Walked out this morning, don’t believe what I saw. A hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore. Seems I’m not alone in being alone. A hundred billion castaways, looking for a home…_ ’

Steve listened as the Avengers hesitantly joined in, humming loudly enough to create a deep backing track, but not enough to usurp Tony’s voice, his wonderful mix of baritone with a hint of soprano emerging at points.

‘ _Message in a bottle…_ ’

No one, even superheroes, dared to interrupt the majesty that was Tony’s singing, his presence.

Steve wished the song could last forever, but he knew it was coming to a close.

Tony’s voice drifted off, singing, ‘ _Sending out an SOS…_ ’

‘Again,’ Natasha pleaded, the entirety of her attention on Tony.

He just gave them a soft smile and began again, crooning _Walking On The Moon_.

The Avengers listened.

 

 

 

 

It was three weeks later when Fury finally appeared in the Tower.

Probably the only reason he even came remotely near the Tower was because Clint and Natasha had stopped reporting to him, deciding to throw all their chips in with their new family. Steve had felt honored when they’d come to him, confiding that they had indeed been reporting to Fury, and that they had no desire to do it any longer.

The Avengers had banded together, creating a careful cover, Natasha and Clint helping to direct JARVIS on writing reports in their styles. Tony always made sure the material was decent, sending his usual obnoxious emails to Fury and complaining about all the Avengers, throwing S.H.I.E.L.D. off the scent.

It was worth it, he thought as Fury burst through the doors to the Avengers level, gun in hand and Hill loyally at his shoulder, looking for all the world like he had expected the Avengers to be replaced with pod people (yes, Steve could understand most modern references now).

It had been a glorious three weeks of Tony Stark’s sultry singing.

The Avengers had bonded over something deeper than themselves, had finally been able to open up and _really_ know each other. Bruce and Tony were comfortable in their own skins; Natasha was wearing her _Assassin’s Creed_ shirts openly; Clint happily perched on every available surface; Thor ran around in his Asgardian tunics, a few of which he had gifted Steve with after he had admired them; and Steve… well, Steve wasn’t hung up on the fact that people only wanted him for the muscles that really had come out of a bottle, no matter how much he wished he could deny it. His teammates, his best friends, his _family_ – they loved him for the man inside; the same little scrawny kid from Brooklyn.

In the end, Operation Stark Sing hadn’t mattered, because it had brought them together, and the objectives had changed; their priorities had shifted. A new, brighter goal had caught their attention, and the Avengers, every one of them, decided that the new goal was worth letting go of the old one.

Unfortunately, Fury’s little Agent party had stumbled in upon lunch, which had actually already been consumed, and had morphed into a dance-fest. It would have been perfectly fine, if the table, chairs, plates, pots and cutlery weren’t thoroughly involved. And what’s worse was that they had just begun singing one line that Fury would find offensive.

‘ _I don’t ever want to play the part of a statistic on a government chart!_ ’

The music was pounding through the kitchen, and the Avengers disregarded Fury’s presence completely, Clint going back to dancing on the table with Natasha, Thor doing the snorkel, Bruce and Steve swing-dancing, and Tony head-banging wildly, hair a complete mess.

‘ _There has to be an invisible sun, it gives its heat to everyone_ ,’ they sang. Tony’s head came up and his threw his arms into the air, making the rock symbol and grinning pointedly at Fury. ‘ _There has to be an invisible sun, that gives us hope when the whole day’s done_!’

Steve and Bruce pulled Tony in, somehow managing to do a three-pronged swing dance and not killing each other, grinning like maniacs.

Fury sighed, holstering his pistol and waving the Agents down. He rubbed a hand over his forehead like he had a migraine developing, lamenting; ‘When did my life become a musical?’

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Driven To Tears (Robert Downey Jr. and Sting)  
> 2\. Every Breath You Take  
> 3\. Walking On The Moon  
> 4\. Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic  
> 5\. Stairway To Heaven (Led Zeppelin)  
> 6\. Carry On My Wayward Son (Kansas)  
> 7\. Synchronicity II  
> 8\. Don’t Stand So Close To Me  
> 9\. The Bed’s Too Big Without You  
> 10\. Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen)  
> 11\. Message In A Bottle  
> 12\. Invisible Sun
> 
>  
> 
> Well, hope you enjoyed!


End file.
